Under Shining Lights
by VBreadergirl123
Summary: Natasha hadn't thought he was important. Now that he had nearly killed her and Clint, she realized just how wrong she had been.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome back, my fellow readers! You have successfully made it to part two of my Clint-Natasha series (If you have not read To Where Will You Run, go do that now. This is a ****_two-part series_****, people.) You have read the pair's first mission together, now read the last one they go on before the Avengers!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, and probably never will. Enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha and Clint stood in the hallway outside of the training room, where Phil Coulson was waiting inside for them to watch them spar. Both of them had a gun and a knife strapped to their sides, and they were both grinning. Phil was going to kill them after this.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Natasha asked. She didn't mean the question, she just liked seeing Clint's reaction.

"Of _course_ it's not a good idea. But wouldn't you love to see the look on Coulson's face? Besides, that's what SHEILD gets for sending us on that crap mission." Clint replied exasperatedly. She grinned and nodded. A mischievous spark could be seen in Clint's eyes. "Well then, let's go!"

* * *

Phil Coulson was sitting in the chair he had permanently claimed in the training room to watch his charges spar when the door slammed open and Clint and Natasha came storming in screaming at one another at the tops of their lungs.

"You complete ASS!" shrieked Natasha. "I—"

"Oh, I'M the ass?" yelled Clint. "YOU—"

Phil watched in horror as Natasha cut him off and leaped at him, screaming bloody murder. The two of them hit the floor, and he heard a gunshot go off. He was frozen, he couldn't move, what the _hell_ was going on? It didn't appear to him that anyone was shot, considering neither of them stopped trying to pummel the other and just kept rolling around on the floor. He saw both of them draw out their knives and saw them glinting in the air as they swiped at each other.

They were going to kill each other, and Phil didn't even know what to do. There was almost no force on earth that could restrain the two of them—in all honesty, they _were_ the two best agents, and they were going to tear each other apart.

Really, they were only at it for thirty seconds at _most_, but to Phil it felt like ages, which is why he was shocked _again_ when the two of them separated and flopped on the ground. They laid on their backs and laughed and laughed and _laughed_. Phil could only gape at them like a fish. He opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out, which only made the two of them laugh harder.

"I—" Phil started, but he didn't even know how to complete the sentence. It was just clicking with him that they were _messing_ with him, and they had _planned_ it to see what he'd do and he was _furious_.

Natasha managed to stop laughing long enough to look at Clint. "Oh my god, the look on his face—" and she burst out laughing again, and they couldn't stop because it was just so gosh darn _funny_.

"So, Coulson," Clint said after he had composed himself. "Does that count as our sparring for the day?" he asked with a smirk.

"I— you—" Phil stuttered. "You _idiots!_"

Clint could tell he was struggling not to kill him, which only made his grin widen. "Phil, for crying out loud, you know those were blanks, not real bullets," he said. "Chill out," he said with a grin.

Natasha looked at Phil, and then back at Clint. "He _definitely_ fell for that," she said.

"Well of _course_ he did," Clint said. "We are _wonderful_ actors."

Phil slapped his hand against his forehead. "You... just go ahead and leave. You have an assignment later, anyway."

Clint and Natasha high-fived, and walked out of the room still chuckling at Phil.

"That was _fantastic_," raved Clint. "If I didn't know you better, I'd have thought you really wanted to blow my head off."

"What can I say," Natasha smiled. "I get paid to act, now don't I? Where do you think they're sending us this time?"

Clint groaned. "I don't know, but if they send us back to freaking Siberia, I will have to murder someone."

"And I'll help you," Natasha added. "I almost lost some fingers to _frostbite _on that mission. I'd be okay with someone chopping them off, but I mean _come. On._ What a lame way to lose a limb," she joked.

Clint rolled his eyes. Over the past six years, he had become closer to Natasha than he had to anyone in the world (okay, maybe except for Phil). They had become inseparable, as all the agents of SHIELD had noticed, and Fury had never been happier—he had a team of unstoppable agents who actually liked working with each other. They had successfully completed more missions in six years than anyone had in the history of SHIELD. They had also caused more trouble on the base than anyone had ever before. This stunt was just to be added to their long list (so TPing Fury's office may not have been the best idea. Nor was covering Hill's office in bubble wrap). But Fury constantly put up with it because, like it or not, SHIELD _needed _the pair of them.

And the two of them knew it, too.

* * *

**So what do you think? I'm starting and ending the story the same way I did with the last one, with fluff (woohoo!). The actual plot actually starts next chapter.**

**Oh, fair warning. I did ****_not_**** pre-write this story yet. As of now, this is the only chapter written, so please be patient, because I promise this story will be good (I'm so excited to write it, I JUST NEED TIME).**

**Perhaps reviews would make me write faster? What do you think so far?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So thank you to my one lovely reviewer (and to the people who favorited and followed it). You're words mean a lot to me :)**

**Anyways, I hope you liked chapter 1, but some stuff starts to happen in this chapter now, so that's good (that can be used to summarize anything, don't you think? stuff starts to happen. that would make an excellent answer on an English test, I think.) Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

Natasha pushed open the door to her dorm room and walked inside, smile still on her face. Walking over to the closet, she pulled out her pre-packed mission bag containing all the necessities—SHIELD would supply anything that wasn't normally needed for basic missions. She had no idea where they were sending her and Clint, but there was one time when she had forgotten her basics bag and the only clothes she had to wear for the entire mission was the dress she had to wear to the party—it was not fun running from a set of assassins in that thing.

Her room wasn't really personalized—nothing to personalize it with. She had her stuff spread out across the room at seemingly random intervals, but actually placed at the perfect spot for her to pick them up whenever she was going to need them. Hoisting the bag over her shoulder, she headed back towards the door. She passed by a chair and grabbed a sweatshirt for the plane ride, and lifted a pair of sunglasses off the top of a lamp, adding them to her bag—you never knew, with SHIELD, where you were going to end up.

Stepping back into the hallway, she turned to start towards Phil's office, where they would be debriefed. Along the way, she noticed a nearly silent set of footsteps behind her. Anyone who wasn't as trained as she was wouldn't have noticed.

"Yes, Clint?" she asked, without turning her head.

She heard Clint swear. "For god's sakes, how on earth can you hear me?" She didn't answer him, and kept walking as he hurried to catch up with her. She felt him knock against her hip—it was a game they played, to see who could knock someone over first. They beat each other equally much, depending on whether or not someone caught the other off guard. Natasha expected it this time, and responded by bumping back against him while sticking her foot out. He stumbled, but as he did so he hit her back, and they both nearly sprawled forward.

Laughing, they turned the corner and stepped in front of Phil's office.

Clint banged unceremoniously on the door until he heard Phil call out "SHUT UP AND COME IN ALREADY." He pushed the door open and found Phil sitting at his desk, still looking irritated from the prank they had pulled on him earlier.

The two agents plopped down in their chairs in front of Phil and looked at him expectantly. Despite any complaints, they _did_ love what they did, and just prayed they'd get a good mission this time instead of someplace like _Siberia_.

Phil pushed two files towards the agents, one for each of them. "You will be going to Washington for this mission," he began when Clint interrupted.

"Washington as in the state of Washington or Washington as in DC?"

Releasing an annoyed breath, Phil responded. "Washington as in our nation's capitol. You will be going to track down and eliminate a high-priority threat, one that we did not know existed until recently. His name is Adrien Olrick, and seems to have ties to a former HYDRA group. The one, if you can remember, that you were sent to destroy six years ago in Kansas. We don't know if this man was actually at the base and escaped, or if he just kept in contact with them, but it appears that he is attempting to gather resources to create a newly developed, highly destructive bomb that could wipe out an entire state at one time. Get rid of him, and the plan falls apart, as it seems he's been very secretive of his plans and doesn't seem to have told anyone. You can read the file on the way there. Any questions?" Clint raised his hand with a smirk. "Besides Clint?"

Natasha shook her head while Clint pretended to look offended. "All right," Phil finished. "Jet's up in an hour. Get some food and get ready to go," he said.

The pair pushed their chairs out and stood, ready to leave. "Oh, by the way," Phil called. "If you two pull a stunt like that again, I swear to God I will put you two on the crappiest mission I can find." It was said with a small smile, though, so the two knew that they had been forgiven.

For now.

* * *

An hour later, the two assassins walked up the jet ramp and waved to Coulson, already knowing his rules about constantly checking up over the comm system. Clint had _literally_ quoted his normal spiel about them back to his face before he could get a word out, and Phil had just slapped him on the back of the head before pulling him and Natasha into a quick hug.

"Be careful. Check in. Don't be stupid." The three sentences he had begun to say to them before every mission. It wouldn't have been a mission to Natasha without hearing them.

The jet had just taken off, and Natasha moved to put her bag into a storage compartment. She pulled open a compartment and found two dress bags. Obviously, they were going someplace fancy. "Clint!" she called. "Looks like you're stuck in a monkey suit!"

She heard Clint's groan from across the jet. He hated suits of any kind except his uniform—too restricting around his shoulders, he said. Natasha smirked, and walked back over to the seats where she sat down and pulled out the file.

Before she started reading, she noticed Clint's eyes on her. "Can I _help_ you?" she asked.

Clint tilted his head at her for a second. "Are you wearing my sweatshirt?"

Natasha looked down at herself. She didn't know. This sweatshirt had been in her room for months, ever since Clint had given it to her that time they got stuck in a rainstorm during that one mission in Brazil and she hadn't... given it back...

"Maybe, maybe not," she replied stubbornly.

"I _liked_ that sweatshirt," Clint complained. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a set of headphones, blasting her music while she paged through the file.

She stopped cold when she saw the picture of the man.

* * *

**Bwahaha cliffhangers are so much fun, don't you think? No? Maybe I'm the only one. Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 2. I had such a small amount of homework tonight that I decided to treat you guys and write a second chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I warned you guys that I hadn't pre-written this story like I did the last one... so the updates will be much less on-schedule.**

**Anyway, I finally got to chapter 3, whoohoo! Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, and enjoy your update :)**

* * *

Natasha ripped out her headphones. This could not be happening. This could _not_ be happening. "Clint, come look at this, please," she said, voice slightly strained. Clint unbuckled his seatbelt (since when does he use his seatbelt?) and crossed the plane towards Natasha. "Look." She pointed to the picture of the man, Adrien Olrick, and Clint looked over her shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw the picture.

"That's not—" he stopped. The twenty year old had dark black curls and cold, green eyes. He had obviously matured over the past six years, became cynical, because the look in his eyes looked like he had given up hope on the world and had reached the point of destroying the world to make a point, but Clint would recognize the boy anywhere. At least, he had been a boy when he last saw him.

_She pulled him to his feet, and yanked him out the door. He was breathing relatively easy now, even though his ribs hurt like hell. They turned the first corner, him following Natasha, and suddenly ran into her as she stopped. Then she dropped to the floor, a knife in her stomach. He looked up and saw a fourteen year old boy staring down at his hand in shock, like he couldn't believe he had just stabbed Natasha Romanoff. Then, he bolted._

The boy who had nearly killed Natasha with that stupid poisoned knife. Obviously, he had had some special training to get the jump on Natasha, but they hadn't heard anything about him in six years, so they figured he had disappeared. Apparently not.

Natasha could help but feel a small stab of guilt fill her stomach, but she pushed it away. She had made the choice not to kill that boy, and it nearly got _her_ killed instead. Now, not only did he nearly kill her, but he was designing a weapon that could take out a major chunk of the world's population. If she had just killed him... no, she had tried Clint's approach, to give the kid a second chance. It wasn't her fault he had wasted it.

"That is _definitely_ him," said Natasha quietly. "I'd know him anywhere."

"So would I," replied Clint. "Do you think he could recognize you?"

Natasha pursed her lips. "I don't really know. He was fourteen last time we saw him, but those kinds of events stick with people." From personal experience, they both knew that to be true. She stood up and walked to one of the plane's supply storages and pulled out a container of bleach. "Either way, I'm not taking a chance. Come help me," she said as she walked to the jet's bathroom. Clint followed her, hoping to help her prevent spilling bleach all over an airline bathroom.

* * *

The two emerged later, Natasha sporting bleached blond hair. She had glanced in the mirror and said "perfect," but Clint liked her hair better red. He didn't say it, of course, but he thought it. It looked better red—different, unique.

She turned to Clint. "Did you finish reading the debrief yet?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Do you _think_ I've finished, yet?" he asked with a laugh.

"Well, go finish it," she said. "Although there really isn't all that much more than what Coulson told us. I think he just needed us to see the picture. Does he know who it is?"

"No," Clint answered. "Remember, we never really told him all that much about what happened on that mission."

Natasha nodded. "Right." She paused. "Did I ever apologize about that?"

Clint let out an exasperated sigh. "_Yes_, even though there wasn't really anything to apologize about. If you hadn't done what you did, I'd have ended up dead, most likely."

"Still," she said. "I didn't like doing it." After an awkward pause, she turned back to Clint. "I'm taking a nap. Go finish that file." She picked up her iPod again and put her headphones back.

A few minutes later when Clint finished the file, he glanced up at Natasha, who was curled up on one of the plush airline chairs while tuning out the world. She looked fast asleep. Asleep was one of the only times she looked peaceful, but Clint knew that wasn't truly the case. One wrong move and she could have one of multiple knives hidden on her person out and up against an unsuspecting throat in a matter of seconds.

They were a pair. They both did it—Clint could count at least six hidden blades on him right now that could be accessed easily, and he assumed Natasha had at least as many, if not more.

Just as he wondered how long was left until they made it to DC, and if there was enough time for him to take a nap as well, he heard the pilot make the announcement to buckle up because they were landing, and the sound of the landing wheels coming out of the plane. So much for that idea—he'd sleep at the safe house.

* * *

**So that flashback was from To Where Will You Run, and hopefully you all had recognized it because yOU WERE SUPPOSED TO READ IT FIRST. I really hope you did, because they go together. If you haven't yet, you should. Pretty please?**

**Anyways, I hope you liked it. Sorry the chapter was short, but I didn't have a lot to say for this one. And to Avamys, who had reviewed my other story and noticed that the boy had to have special training, I applaud you for your good catch!**

**Leave me a review to let me know what you think, please :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**So I'm SOOOOO sorry it's been so long since I last updated. I've been having a writer's block, but I finally got this chapter down. This one is sort of fluffy-ish, but I hope you still like it. Thanks to everyone so far who has reviewed/followed/favorited my story, and enjoy chapter 4!**

* * *

Clint passed out on the bed, still dressed, when they got to the safe house while Natasha brewed coffee. She didn't mind though—any more complaining about him not getting to nap on the plane and she would have punched him in the face.

She sat down on the comfy chair that was in the safe house and pulled out the file again, paging through it to get details about the target. Adrien Olrick certainly had grown up, going from stabbing covert agents in the stomach to building weapons of mass destruction. She still couldn't believe they had to deal with him. Reading through the packet, she began to formulate the plan. Apparently, Olrick was having a party at some fancy hotel in DC tomorrow night—the Four Seasons. She had been in one of those before for another job, and it was gorgeous. Lots of hanging chandeliers and people catering to your every need. There were tickets inside the debrief to get into the party, as well as information about room reservations. Natasha pushed a newly blonde curl behind her ear. If all went well, the plan would be for her to lead Olrick up to their room where one of the two of them would kill him. For her, it shouldn't be a difficult job. They'd have to check in earlier that day to get everything set up in the room.

She got up and walked over to the dress bag hanging on the door across the room and slowly unzipped it. It was an ice blue dress with lots of diamond-like sequins, had one shoulder, and, fortunately, was short. She hated trying to fight in long dresses—it made it nearly impossible to kick anyone if she needed to. Either way, though, for this job it wouldn't be a problem. Most likely she'd change in the hotel room after they killed Orlick before they ran.

Natasha paced around the room for a while, every so often glancing at the clock. It was about 5:30 in the morning. She had let Clint sleep for longer than she thought. Plus, she was hungry, and for some odd reason, Clint knew how to cook. He had actually improved the longer she had known him. Perhaps it was because of her refusal to learn herself. She threw a pillow at his head, and he jerked awake.

"Wha—"

"Clint, wake up, it's 5:30," said Natasha.

"5:30?" exclaimed Clint. "Why didn't you wake me up before now?"

"Because if I did you would have complained. And now I'm hungry," she added with a smirk, as Clint sighed and heaved himself over towards the kitchen.

"Usual?" he called over. She nodded. "Alright, one batch of strawberry pancakes coming up."

* * *

The pair of assassins had their stuff packed up and ready to check into the hotel by noon. The party was at six, so the pair decided to go out for lunch.

Decided is the wrong word. More like Natasha lost a bet and Clint forced her.

"It was a stupid bet," argued Natasha as they walked out the door of the hotel.

"Maybe," replied Clint, "but you agreed to it."

Natasha groaned. When the two of them had gotten checked into the gorgeous hotel and went over to the elevators, two arrived at once. They decided to race their elevators, and Clint had won because Natasha's elevator had to stop off two extra times. Clint had been sitting in the room with a victorious smile plastered on his face for a good seven minutes before Natasha stormed in. "So where are we going?" she complained. She started to trudge slower and slower to get on Clint's nerves.

Clint glanced behind him and saw her start to drag. After looking around to get his bearings, he slowed down long enough to grab her hand and pull her forward. "Come on, I've been here once with Phil before, trust me, this place is _amazing,_" he said gleefully. He continued to pull her along until they came to a stop in front of a small looking Italian restaurant. "Trust me," he said. "This place is mind-blowingly good."

And to this day it was the best lunch Natasha has ever had, even if she doesn't admit it to Clint.

* * *

After their trek out to lunch, it was 4:30 by the time they got back, and neither of them were remotely close to being ready. Natasha practically pushed Clint into the bathroom so he could shower while she went through her suitcase to gather all of her things. Clint came out a few minutes later, showered and wearing only his suit pants, slung low on his hips. His face was the picture of unhappiness.

"I still don't understand if _you're_ the one leading Olrick up here why _I_ have to wear the monkey suit," he complained.

"Oh, shut up," said Natasha. "You're always the one saying that you want to be close enough to me when I'm on a mission to be proper back up, and you can't be my backup at the party if you aren't dressed to be there. Besides, _you_ don't have to wear heels," she added as she entered the vacated bathroom. "You better have that whole suit on by the time I get out here," she threatened.

* * *

**And there is chapter 4! So I will warn you now that because school is ending soon and exams are coming up in a few weeks and all these final projects that I might not update much between now and June, but my goal is to still update a few times. So here's hoping! Thanks for reading, and leave me a review please to let me know how you like it so far!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So guess who's finally on summer break!**

**Anyway, thank you so much to all of you who have stuck with this story even though I don't update that often :) Your reviews make me so excited! So here's the next chapter!**

* * *

Clint grumbled to himself the entire time he was putting on his suit, even though Natasha was in the bathroom and no one was around to hear him complain. He _hated_ suits. There was not nearly enough room for the comfortable shoulder movement he would need when stringing his bow. He buttoned up his shirt and tucked it in, then yanked his belt through the loops. He reached for the tie... and stopped, realizing he almost never wore ties and therefore had no idea how to put it on. He sighed dramatically, and then flopped down on the bed to put his shoes on.

He smirked when he heard the water shut off and was able to make out Natasha's humming. It was a habit she denied every time he asked because she was so off-key, but she hummed in the shower as much as he sang.

Clint flung the tie haphazardly around his neck and stood up to look in the mirror. He turned around when he heard the bathroom door creak and froze when he saw Natasha.

She was wearing a light blue dress that glittered wherever the light hit it. It showed one of her shoulders and came down about two thirds of the way to her knees. She had pulled her newly bleached hair up and out of the way, and she was somehow balancing in blue heels. She looked stunning, and she rolled her eyes when she saw the state his tie was in.

"Clint, you _still_ haven't learned how to tie that thing, yet?" He snapped himself out of his daze and scoffed in a _do-you-THINK-I-know-how-to-tie-this-stupid-thing? _way. Natasha sighed. "Fine, get over here." He walked over towards her and watched as she fixed his tie for him. When she finished, she looked up at him. "Ready to go?"

* * *

"Okay, so the plan is I go in first, and then five minutes later you come in after me?" Natasha asked.

"Yup," Clint replied. "We'll spend a little time walking around, trying to find Olrick. We'll meet up wherever there's food to discuss what we've found, and eventually you'll lead Olrick up to our second room and take him out there. I'll meet you up there just in case anything goes wrong and then we change and leave before anyone knows where their host went."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You make it sound so simple," she said with a grin. "Wish me luck!"

She walked into the elevator and pressed the button, and Clint watched the doors close in front of her.

Five minutes later, Clint hit the elevator button and waited for it to arrive on their floor. Doing a quick once-over in his head of his weapons (three knives, two pistols, and a miniature cross-bow with drugged darts), he stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. Standing in the elevator, he stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, still despising the lack of shoulder room in his stupid suit. When the elevator made it to his destination, he straightened his tie and got out, heading towards the party.

The man at the front with the guest list stopped him. "Name?" he asked.

Clint spoke without hesitation. "Graham Watson," he answered. Fury had already gotten them—or their disguised selfs—onto the guest list, so he and "Shelby Lossan" could make it into the party without any problems. The man nodded, checking off his name and letting him in.

"Enjoy yourself," he said.

Clint strolled into the party. Unlike Natasha, who was an expert at being noticed, Clint excelled at making his way around _un_noticed. Walking through the room, he was completely unremarkable in any way—just a man in a suit. Who also happened to be carrying enough weapons to help him take down eight men in a matter of two minutes or less. He knew Natasha would be in the center of the party, making friends and observing from there, so he stuck to the perimeter. He saw better from a distance anyway.

He scanned the room for Olrick. After searching the room a few times, Clint couldn't see him. He also figured there was a chance that Olrick would decide to arrive "fashionably late" to his own party, so he wasn't worried. The party had only just started anyway. With this thought in mind, and keeping an eye out the entire time, he worked his way towards the food table.

He grinned when he got there—he was starving. Scooping up a plateful of food, he began to chow down, all while keeping a close watch out of the corner of his eye, which was why he wasn't surprised when Natasha stood next to him a moment later.

"Do you ever stop eating?" she asked, exasperated.

He smirked. "My job burns a lot of energy," he replied. "Find anything?"

Natasha shook her head. "Not here yet."

Clint finished his plate and threw it away. He turned to Natasha, tilting his head to hear the music playing. The band was in the middle of a slow song. "Well, Miss Lossan," he said with a grin. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, extending his hand. Natasha smiled and took it, allowing him to lead her out onto the dance floor. The song was half-over anyway, so it wasn't like they were going to miss much.

He stood close to her, his hands on her hips, her arms around his neck. They swayed to the music, both of them still on high alert but pushing it to the back of their minds for a few short moments.

_I'm not a perfect person, __I never meant to do those things to you_

_And so I have to say before I go, t__hat I just want you to know_

_I found a reason for me, to change who I used to be_

_A reason to start over new, and the reason is you..._

The song ended much too soon, in their opinions, but they had a job to finish. Fortunately, Olrick had finally walked in just after the song ended. Natasha straightened and turned to Clint. "Here we go," she said. And she sauntered off towards Olrick.

* * *

**Yay, so I finally got this posted! I hope you liked it, it was still sort of fluffy, I just haven't gotten to the action yet. Anyway, for those of you who may not have heard the song, it is "The Reason" by Hoobastank. See you all soon! Reviews please?**


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